


Trapped

by dassala



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-01-07 10:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18408365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dassala/pseuds/dassala
Summary: After they find themselves stuck in the Enchanted Forest of the Past, Emma and Killian embark on a journey to find their way home - wherever (and whenever) home may be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to starlessness for the Beta!

“How’s the portal coming? Can you open it?”  


Emma and Hook stormed into the dining room of the Dark One’s castle, the all-familiar look of hope blooming behind Emma’s green eyes. Their journey was almost complete. Per Rumple’s instructions, they had put the past back to rights with only the tiny exception of releasing a prisoner from Regina’s dungeon. As they prepared to return to Storybrooke, the woman expressed profuse gratitude and fled back to her home and family. Finally standing in front of the Dark One himself, they were waiting anxiously to be sent back to the future.   


“I cannot,” Rumplestiltskin admitted, pouring something of a sulfurous odor into the bowl before him.   


Emma’s brow furrowed as her nose turned up at the smell. She stared down for a moment into the obviously magical brew in front of the impish man. “Well, then what are you working on?” She felt Hook’s posture shift beside her.   


Rumplestiltskin stirred the contents of the bowl together with a smirk. The concoction took on a bluish glow. “Oh, this is for me. A forgetting potion.” He raised his golden gaze to the pair before him. “I know too much about my future. The only way to protect it is to forget it.”   


Emma’s jaw dropped a minute amount as she clenched her fists with anxiety. Hook took a step closer to her, his hand finding its way to the hilt of his sword. She glanced back down at the table and gestured to a black, twisted rod laid next to the potion. “Well, what about this wand? You said that could help us.”  


“Oh that,” Rumple smirked, “Well apparently, only those who used the portal can reopen it.”  


Glancing back to Hook, Emma watched his frown deepen.   


“So unless you can wield magic, I’m afraid you’re going nowhere.” The smaller man grasped the wand in his gold-flecked hand. He chuckled and tossed it to Emma. “Can you?”  


She caught the wand and looked down at it. Before Zelena had managed to remove her magic, she might have felt a pulsing, tingling rush from an object of such power. Now, it was no more than a twig in her hands.  


“Thought not,” Rumple smirked.  


Hook stepped up, his body language tense. The look upon his face was murderous.   


“So you just expect us to stay here?” the pirate growled, his fingers twitching upon the hilt of his sword. “What about protecting your precious future?”  


Rumple lifted his hands, his fingers fluttering with excitement. The Rumplestiltskin of the past was much more gesticulative than the Mr. Gold she’d come to know in Storybrooke. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”  


There was the sharp, unmistakable sound of a sword leaving its scabbard as Hook lifted his blade and pointed it directly at the giggling creature before them. “He means to kill us, Swan!”  


“No!” Rumple grinned, revealing a set of grotesque teeth between sparkling lips. “I mean to put you someplace safe -- somewhere far from here. And should you return to tell me of my future again, all memories of your lives before now shall vanish completely.” He gave a flick of his wrist.   


“Rumple━!” Emma’s protest was cut short as she and her pirate companion vanished in a cloud of purplish smoke.   


\--  


There was a hum of magic in the air for a fleeting second as the smoke dissipated. Emma found herself in a clearing, surrounded by the large trees typical of the Enchanted Forest. Hook was still behind her, his sword having vanished. He cursed under his breath.  


“Bloody crocodile.”  


She glanced down at the wand, still in her hands. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “We're stuck.”  


“You've still got the wand,” Hook observed. He gestured to her hands. “All you've got to do, love, is get the wretched thing working.”  


“How?! You know what Zelena did to me.”  


“Aye, and now she's dead. Her curses should have broken. You just don’t want your magic.”  


Emma's gaze narrowed. “You think I'm faking this?”  


Pursing his lips, Hook shifted his weight from one hip to the other. “I think that without magic, you'd find it quite easy to fold back into your life in New York. You don't want to admit it's still a part of you.”  


“Hook, I want to go home more than anything!” Tears were welling in her eyes as she gripped the wand with more fervor.   


The pirate's eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Home? New York?”  


“Storybrooke. Henry was right. You were right. I need to stop running. Seeing my Mom die was…” she paused and swallowed back a sob. “I wanted her back so bad.”  


His gaze softening, Hook looked from Emma to the wand in her hand. “I'm rather glad to hear that, Swan, but until we get your magic back up to snuff…”  


Emma nodded and sighed. She glanced around them. “I don't even know where to start.”  


“I've an idea or two,” Hook scratched behind his ear.   


“Yeah? Like what?”  


“A pint wouldn't go amiss,” he rocked on his feet.  


Emma gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Of course.”  


“Unless you have a better plan, love? It's been a hell of a couple of days. A tavern would also be the right kind of place to turn for a hot meal and a place to stay for the night,” his voice was more stern than she anticipated. He adjusted his rucksack, raising his eyebrows in her direction.  


Biting her lower lip, Emma replied with a sheepish nod. She regretted the bit of sass she’d thrown at him in judgment. He would know better about the best places to go when lost, hungry, and tired.  


“C'mon,” he gestured toward the main road, which was visible a few yards away, through the trees.  


The pair walked in silence for a long while before either spoke.  


“Don't suppose you have money to pay for any of this, do you?”  


Hook smirked and gave a simple nod. “A pirate is always prepared.”  


They passed a few people first, then a handful of peasants with horses and carts. As they neared a small village, Emma's stomach growled. She still wore her prison rags, her hair down around her shoulders. A few men in town gave her lingering looks as she passed. She tried her best to ignore them, choosing instead to focus on saving what integrity remained of her thin, flat leather shoes.  


“In here,” Hook muttered, gesturing down an alley. There was an open door to the right, from which a solid warmth and a distinctive smell emanated.   


Pulling her hood over her hair, Emma entered the tavern. A rickety sign above gave the place the name of ‘The Horn and Drum’. A rather frightening looking man was tending the bar. He pulled a tray full of pints before sliding it over to a bar wench whose top was leaving very little to the imagination. She was pretty enough, but when she flashed a smile at Hook, Emma spied a rather unkempt set of teeth.   


“Oi, two pints please,” Hook demanded, patting the bar top with his palm. “And two plates of whatever you've got on the fire in the kitchens.”  


The barkeep, with a red, ulcerated face and a bulbous nose, leaned in their general direction. “Pretty lass you've with you. She working?”  


Emma wasn't sure what insulted her more: the fact that he had implied she was a prostitute, or that he wouldn't ask her directly. Her gaze narrowed but she kept her head low.   


“You want to watch the way you speak of a man's wife?” His voice landed loud and hard on the word “wife,” and beneath her hood, Emma’s eyes widened.  


“Pardon,” the man laughed, which turned into a dry cough, “just ain't used to her kinda looks ‘round here. Lucky man, you are.”  


Hook pressed two gold coins onto the bar and slid them toward the man. “I know I am.” Emma felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. The barkeep's compliments were easy to brush off, but to hear Hook say he'd be a lucky man if she were his wife, well, that was something a shade more personal.   


“We've been traveling and we're tired. Give me a room, our meals, and our pints. And then we'll be off.”  


The gold coins must have been a large sum. The man scrambled to collect them and snapped his fingers at the bar wench they'd encountered on their way into the tavern.   


“Louise, take this man and his wife up to our best room. Feed and water ‘em.”  


The young woman gave Hook a disappointed look and gestured to the stairs. “Up there, sir.”  


Emma followed the young woman per Hook's direction. He walked behind her, as if to fend off an attack from the rear. She took in the sight of the shabby dwelling and heard the girl whisper to the Captain.   


“And should ye get bored with ‘er, I'll be workin’ late tonight.”  


“Make sure the food's hot,” Hook snapped in annoyance before closing the door. He sighed as he gave Emma an apologetic look. “Sorry, it's…”  


“Just the way things are, got it.” She rubbed her hands together for warmth and turned to face the fireplace.   


She heard him release a heavy sigh. He glanced around the room and took a look out the lone, dirty window. “Think we'll be fine here. Doubt the Queen has much business in these parts. We're quite a way from where we left your parents.”  


Her hands a bit warmer, Emma turned and took a better look around the room. There was a small table with two chairs, a mirror with a pitcher and basin, and one bed with threadbare blankets and a straw-stuffed mattress. When she looked away from the bed, she found Hook removing his jacket with care. He gestured to a thin rug on the floor beside the bed.   


“When it becomes less necessary to keep up appearances, Swan, I’ll be sleeping here. You should have the bed.”  


She opened her mouth to protest. Hook's brows knit together as he frowned in her direction.   


“Bad form to let a lass sleep on the floor,” he explained with a wave of his false hand.  


“Thank you,” she muttered, “but you don't have to lay on the chivalry just because we've taken a major leap backwards in women’s rights. We’ll take turns. Next stop, you can have the bed… for however long we’re stuck here.”  


“No need,” he shook his head in dismissal, “it’ll be like old times. I used to sleep on the deck of Silver’s ship in my wasted youth.”  


A knock on the door signaled the arrival of their dinner. A different servant girl entered the room and placed a tray on the small table, then hurried about to light the candles on the wall sconces and nightstands. The poor thing was frightfully thin, with dull, deep brown hair plaited down her back. She couldn't have been more than twelve years old. The maternal instincts Emma had discovered since finding Henry caused a knot to tighten in her stomach. The girl kept her eyes to the floor as she gave a small curtsey before leaving.   


“No child labor laws here, huh?”  


Hook frowned as he took a seat at the table. “She's lucky to have employment at all. Many children find themselves begging for coins on the side of the road.”  


With a huff of fruitless irritation, Emma moved to the table and glanced down into two steaming bowls of... something. She turned up her nose at the sight of the mystery meat swimming in a broth the color of mud.   


“I’d get used to the local fare, love, or else you won’t have the energy to travel,” Hook smirked. He took a seat and dug into the meager meal. He thought as he chewed a spoonful, then nodded. “Mm, nothing exotic. Mutton. Overcooked, but you’ll have that.”  


Finally feeling the warmth from the fire, Emma loosened her cloak and took a seat, pushing back her cloak to hang over the back of her chair. She picked up the wooden spoon and fished out a vegetable resembling a carrot. Taking a tentative bite, she was pleasantly surprised at the flavor and found her hunger awakened. Overcooked mutton be damned; she was going to eat every bite of her meal.  


“After I finish, I’ll go downstairs and inquire after the Black Fairy. See if anyone has passed through with knowledge of how to summon her,” Hook spoke, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a tattered cloth napkin that had seen better days. He lifted his ale and tipped the pewter mug a bit in Emma’s direction. “Here’s to finding our way home.”  


Emma lifted her own mug in reply and tapped it against the pirate’s. She gave a small, hopeful smile. “To getting home.”  


\--  


Hook embarked downstairs to make his inquiries, leaving Emma alone in the room. She sat upon the lumpy bed, drawing in a breath of unfamiliar air. Between the crickets chirping outside, the crackling of the fireplace, and a dull murmur of voices through the floorboards, she found her eyes getting heavy. She fluffed up the pillow to the best of her ability before lying down. Moonlight was visible through the shoddy rafters. If it rained, she would most certainly get wet.   


It seemed as if she was on the verge of drifting off when Hook entered the room. She turned her head and rubbed at her eye with the heel of her palm.   


“My apologies, Swan,” he muttered, his voice soft. “Please, don’t let me disturb you.”  


Emma sat up and cleared her throat, shaking her head. She ran a hand through her hair before extending her arms to the side in a stretch. “No, it’s okay. Did you learn anything down there?”  


“Unfortunately not,” he replied, shedding his coat and taking a seat once more in his chair. “Just a fair bit of ire thrown my way for asking about fairies at all. It appears we’re in one of the less magically-inclined villages of the Enchanted Forest.”  


“With an Evil Queen that uses magic against people, I’m not surprised,” Emma sighed and looked at her shoes. She slipped them off, placing them at the side of the bed. “I suppose we should get some rest, then.”  


“Aye, seems a good idea,” he stood and grabbed his jacket, balling it up into a makeshift pillow. He carefully sat on the floor beside the bed and leaned back, crossing his booted feet one over the other. “Sleep well, Swan.”  


“Goodnight, Hook.”  


“Killian will do, you know.” He spoke from the floor, eyes closed. A smirk was on his lips.   


“Goodnight, Killian,” Emma replied, and despite the guilt she felt in taking the more comfortable sleeping accommodations, she could hardly extend an invite for him to share the bed with her. Knowing the man was enamored with her made the entire situation a bit more fragile. She adjusted the long gray gown she wore from Regina’s prison in an attempt to maintain her modesty and laid back to get some rest.  


Despite her exhaustion, it seemed that rest was not to be had. Emma jumped at the sound of the door being thrown open in the next room, her eyes snapping wide open. Only then did she realize that the walls between the rooms were paper-thin. The next sounds were definitely the stuff of nightmares. She forced her eyes closed as a girl giggled and ran about the room. The door slammed shut behind a heavy-footed man, who growled low in his throat as he stomped across the floor. With a squeal, the girl’s giggles melted into moans.   


As if it wasn’t already incredibly awkward to be sleeping next to a pirate who was obviously attracted to her, now they would be treated to the live action sounds of a late-night tryst. Emma swallowed hard as she did her best to think of other things, but the girl’s moans only increased in volume. It wasn’t long before a repetitious beat of a headboard slamming against the wall behind her filled her ears. The momentum even caused the room to vibrate in time with the neighboring boarders’ exertions.   


Emma’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment. She opened her eyes again and stared at the ceiling, keeping her breath steady as possible. The fluttering of the candlelight with each of the booms against the wall merely punctuated the sound. There was no escaping the amorous encounter in the adjoining space. Graciously, the pounding didn’t last long, and the gentle, crackling fire again filled the room as their neighbors settled into silence.  


With a shaky breath, Emma turned onto her side and closed her eyes, willing herself back to sleep. She heard Killian mutter beneath his breath as he shifted on the floor.  


“Bloody racket... hardly worth the effort…”  



	2. Chapter 2

Shouting outside of the tavern caused Emma to stir from her slumber. She heard laughter and the sound of glass breaking as she opened her eyes. For a moment, she was oblivious to her location, but the crunch of the straw mattress beneath her aching body triggered her memory. She pushed up onto her elbows, seeing a dim light outside the window. Dawn was coming. The barkeep was pushing the last of his patrons out into the street and cleaning up empty bottles and mugs from the night before. She turned to look back into the room, finding Killian on the floor. His leather jacket was balled up beneath his head, and she had never seen the man look more at peace as his chest rose and fell with each breath. As she shifted to her side, she noticed a blanket that had not been on her body when she fell asleep. She smiled at the thought of him tucking her in for the night.  


Pushing away from the bed, Emma stood and silently stretched her legs. She grasped the ceramic pitcher from its perch and carefully tip-toed to the door, as not to wake the sleeping pirate. The moment her hand hit the doorknob, though, the man sat bolt-upright and raised the hooked appendage for which he was famous. Apparently, he had switched attachments for the night. For protection's sake, most likely.  


“Who’s there?” Killian asked, his eyes wide and dark hair askew.  


Emma raised a hand in surrender. “Just me,” she reassured him, wiggling the pitcher in her hand. “Just going for some water.”  


“Allow me, Swan,” Killian groaned, fumbling up to his feet and reaching for the pitcher. “You’ll have a right time finding a place to fill it. No indoor plumbing, you see.”  


“Oh,” she nodded, acknowledging that she wasn’t sure where she intended to find water. She handed the vessel over to his outstretched hand.  


“Um, you should…” she gestured to her own hair, “you’re a little messy.” It was strange to see him unkempt. Strange, but also charming.  


He tucked the pitcher under his left arm and reached up to comb his fingers through his hair, tucking it back into place. “Thank you.”  


“No problem,” Emma smiled in return and took a step back. She stood awkwardly for a moment before clearing her throat. “What’s the plan for today?”  


“Well, I’d say we continue on down the main road. See what we can find. Are you rested enough?”  


Emma nodded. “Against all odds, I’d say I am.” Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she recalled the ‘entertainment’ they'd suffered the night before. She glanced back up to Killian.  


The pirate chuckled and turned, heading out the door to fetch the water as he promised.  


\--  


Emma paced the room as she waited for Killian to return. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, and the noise echoed as if she were the only person remaining in the inn. Her mind was on Henry. Her son, at the tender age of fourteen, could be without her for the rest of his life with no idea of what happened to her. Emma wrung her hands as she turned, stepping away from the warmth of the smoldering fireplace embers. What kind of life would he have without her?  


Regina was more than capable of raising the kid, of course. Emma knew now that she could trust the mayor to love and care for Henry just as much as she did. He would have the stability of his extended family with Mary-Margaret and David. Perhaps, Emma considered, he was meant to be without her. She had only been a part of the boy’s life for the past few years, and now it was entirely possible they’d be separated forever.  


The sound of footsteps in the hallway startled Emma. She altered her stance almost defensively as she waited for the door to open. She was, after all, a fugitive. She would have to be ready for a fight at any moment.  


Killian opened the door. Emma relaxed with a sigh of relief. Her companion carried the pitcher of water, a bundle of olive green cloth beneath one arm, and a plate of shiny-looking buns balanced on his false hand. He had tucked a red scarf into his jacket and looked considerably more buttoned up than usual.  


“Alright, Swan?” he asked as he shifted some items onto the table. “You look tense.”  


She sat down on the bed and ran a hand through her hair. “Just...readying myself for anything, I guess.”  


With a smirk, he held out the plate of buns. “Breakfast. And I’ve brought you some different clothes. The Evil Queen will be on the lookout for the fugitive who managed to escape her dungeons. Even if you do look different, she’ll recognize your outfit. And those shoes are no good for walking through the forest. I found some boots.” He gestured to the bundle of fabric on the table.  


She reached up and took one of the treats from the plate, finding it warm, sticky, and soft to the touch. Breathing in the sugary scent, she smiled. “Well, that looks much better than some of the other Enchanted Forest food I’ve had.”  


“Figured it was close to those ‘bear paws’ you seem to favor,” Killian smirked. He took one for himself and took up a place near the window to bite into it.  


“Bear claws, and yeah, thank you,” he knew her favorite breakfast treat. A man who paid attention to such things was always admirable. But how much of it was his wanting to get into her pants? Or… skirt, in this case?  


They ate in silence for a time before Killian dusted his palm on his pants and gestured toward the door. “I’ll be outside while you change.” He pushed away from the window and strode across the room.  


Emma reached out and grasped his hand as he passed. He paused and looked down at her, his eyebrow raising as it usually did when he was perplexed. Those things really did have a mind of their own.  


“Thank you, Killian,” she said, allowing her eyes to meet his. Taking in a deep breath, she squeezed his hand before releasing it. “This means a lot.”  


He seemed to force a smile, nodding in response. “Of course.”  


\--  


“I would kill for a latte right now,” Emma groaned, trudging along the dirt road. She and Killian were deep within the woods with nary a village in sight. She imagined they’d been on the road for two to three hours. The sun was higher in the sky, yet not quite at its peak. A warm summer breeze toyed with her long blonde locks as she steadied on.  


While not as comfortable as her prison shift had been, Emma was at least a bit more incognito in her new clothing. The olive-colored dress was loose enough to allow her to walk with ease, and the long brown leather corset just barely grazed her hips. It wasn't as tight as the ones she had worn before. She could breathe easily, for which she was quite thankful. She looked the part of an Enchanted Forest peasant, rather than a fugitive from the Queen’s brand of “justice”.  


Killian smirked as he walked alongside her, his rucksack slung over one shoulder, “I do believe your brand of coffee shop is a few centuries ahead of the Enchanted Forest. You can get a cup of black coffee at our next stop, should you wish.”  


“Not the same,” she sighed. Her calves were aching. Despite the sturdy boots Killian had procured for her, it was pretty clear that Emma had not been made for a life of wandering. “Can we stop, just for a second? My legs are killing me.”  


“As you wish,” Killian replied. He gestured to a fallen log off the side of the road.  


Emma took to a mossy spot and sat, reaching down to loosen the laces on her boots. “So what are the chances we actually find anyone who knows anything about the Black Fairy?”  


With a shrug, Killian removed a flask from his bag and took a swig. He handed over the leather-trimmed bottle. “Slim. But we’ll do our best. If it means getting you home to your family, Swan, it’s a priority.”  


Emma paused with the flask at her lips. She thought for a moment about his words. There was a possibility that it would take ages to find the Black Fairy and ask for her help. What then? Would they be stuck in the Enchanted Forest of the past for years before finding a way out? A feeling of dread washed over her as she came to a stark realization. “We have a deadline.”  


“Pardon?” Killian asked, turning to look at her. “A deadline?”  


“Yes,” Emma nodded, taking a swig from the flask before handing it back to him. She cringed as the rum burned down her throat. “When I’m born, Regina is going to enact her curse. And then everyone in the Enchanted Forest gets swept to Storybrooke.”  


Killian’s brow softened as he gave thought to her facts. “You’re right. We would… ”  


“Forget everything because of the curse. And even if another me did manage to come back in twenty-eight years and break the curse, I’d probably freak out at seeing my doppelganger around town and bolt.”  


“So we have to get back to our time, or we risk everything,” Killian observed, his tone grave.  


The sound of hooves and wheels came from up the road. Killian turned quickly, his hand on his sword. He placed a defensive arm between Emma and the approaching strangers. As they got closer, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.  


Emma stood, frowning. Two familiar faces looked down at the pair of them.  


“Charles, Leia?” The woman in the cart asked. It was the woman they had rescued from Regina's dungeon. And the man with her… was Robin Hood.  


Killian’s jaw dropped slightly as he obviously searched for an answer.  


“No,” Emma said carefully, remembering that they had lost their Rumplestiltskin-applied disguises when he dumped them in the middle of the forest, “sorry. Have we met?”  


The woman laughed and waved her hand. “I’m so sorry. From a distance, you reminded me of someone I knew.”  


“You don't say,” Killian mumbled. Emma promptly elbowed him in the side.  


“That happens to us all of the time. Some... Prince and Princess we supposedly resemble.” Lying had been her strong suit, in another life.  


Leaning over with a smirk, Robin quipped, “Were I to be mistaken for royalty, I’d certainly put it to good use, if you know what I mean.”  


Robin of Loxley was just as charming in the Enchanted Forest as he was back in Storybrooke. And from the looks of it, the woman at his side was his wife. Emma had released Maid Marian from a death sentence. Her stomach did a flip. Had her innocent act of mercy inadvertently ruined Regina's relationship with Robin? What did this mean for when they returned to Storybrooke?  


Robin shifted in his seat with one of his bright smiles and clicked his tongue at the horse. “So sorry to bother you.”  


Finding his voice, Killian finally chimed in. “Ah, could you... perhaps point us in the direction of a place to find some food and drink? We’ve been on the road all morning, and my wife is rather parched.”  


“If you’re headed to the South, there’s not a village for miles,” Robin gestured down the road. “But our home is nearby. My wife and I can offer you a morsel.”  


It wasn’t until Emma heard a tiny cry that she realized there was a bundle strapped to Marian’s chest. Roland.  


“And it seems our son is just as hungry,” Marian grinned. “Please, hop on and we’ll take you back to our home.”  


Emma exchanged glances with her companion, who shrugged in reply. He offered Emma his hand to help her onto the cart. She climbed aboard, making room for him to take a seat beside her.  


The cart lurched forward. Killian reached out, wrapping an arm around Emma's waist to keep her from tumbling down to the dirt road. She nodded in appreciation once secure. The pirate cleared his throat and awkwardly pulled his hand back to rest upon his thigh.  


“Awful trusting, aren’t they?” Emma whispered as they rode. She found herself wishing for modern luxuries like suspensions and rubber tires as the wooden wheels bounced along each divot in the dirt road.  


“If memory serves, they live in a community with Robin’s men. They’re well-protected where they are,” Killian replied in a hushed tone. “At least we know they’re unlikely to try and rob us.”  


They rode along in silence until they reached an intimate circle of homes in a clearing. Each cottage was built with smooth stones and had a thatched roof. Smoke poured from each small chimney. The dwellings were so diminutive in size that Emma wondered at the number of children which ran through the area. Where on earth did they fit them all?  


“Here we are,” Robin called, pulling the horses to a halt. He hopped off of the front bench seat and helped Marian down before moving to the back to unload his wares. “Welcome to Sherwood Forest.”  


“It’s lovely,” Emma cooed as she took Killian’s hand and stepped off the back of the cart. She glanced around, taking in the smells of baking bread and stewing meat, the sounds of children’s laughter and men splitting firewood. A stream trickled by to the West and a couple of women conversed as they brought buckets of water from the banks back to their homes. The scene was idyllic.  


“Come in and rest yourself,” Marian offered. She bounced slightly in her step to calm little Roland. “I’ve got some bread, cheese, and winter sausage if that will do for you. And please, help yourself to some water.”  


“That’s perfect, thank you,” Emma replied as she ducked in through the door and stepped down into a dirt-floor kitchen. The fireplace was large and warm. A pot of something simmered over the flames, smelling absolutely divine. She took in the sight of a rickety bed, not unlike the one from the tavern, in the back corner of the cottage. A hand-carved cradle was next to it.  


“I’ll be just a moment, if you’ll excuse me,” Marian ducked back to the bed area, bringing her infant to her breast. Emma smiled at the simplicity of it all. They seemed happy, even without mobile phones, televisions, and running water. She sat at the table and poured two cups from a clay pitcher. Killian stepped in through the door and joined her at the table, giving thanks for the water before he lifted it to his lips.  


He took a look at the wooden cup before putting it down onto the table. “We may be a bit off of our path, but some hospitality is always welcome.”  


Emma nodded. “This is incredible,” she gushed, her voice low, “Did you live like this before the whole… Hook thing?”  


Killian shook his head. “I’ve always been on the sea, ever since I was young. As soon as my mother left, which was shortly after I was born and before I could know a life such as this, Liam and I were ferried onto merchant's vessels for my father’s work. I’ve never had a home upon the shore. Especially after our father vanished from Silver’s ship in the dead of night.”  


Frowning, Emma reached out and slid her hand over his. Killian looked up at her, his blue eyes dark with painful memories. He was an orphan, too.  


“I think we’re more alike than I ever knew,” Emma said in a hushed tone, giving his hand a squeeze.  


Marian appeared, rocking a wailing Roland. “Well it isn’t food he wants, and he’s freshly changed. My apologies for the noise.”  


“Would you mind if I gave it a try?” Killian rose from his seat and offered out his arms, leaving Emma's outstretched palm on the table. He had, of course, left his hook in his satchel to avoid being recognized by the presence of the thing. In its stead, he had fastened a wooden, gloved hand to his brace. Such a setup would be safe enough for handling little Roland. Emma was taken aback by his eagerness to hold the child.  


“Bless you,” Marian laughed as she handed over the squirming infant, “have you two any little ones of your own?”  


Color rose into Killian’s neck and cheeks. He shook his head. “Not yet.”  


Emma flushed pink and stared down at the cup between her hands. All of this talk about being his wife was a good cover, but how much of it was also his brand of wishful thinking? A life of simplicity in the woods, a babe on her hip...it seemed almost the opposite of her life in Boston or New York so many moons ago.  


Roland quieted down to whimpers in Killian’s arms. The child focused on him as he hummed a low tune. After a few bars, the melody evolved into a lyrical verse. _“You can search the world for pretty girls, ‘til your eyes grow weak and dim…”_  


A smile crept across Emma’s features. She had always pegged the pirate as a man of many women and vast riches. He was a voyager who would not be tied down by a single woman and a family. But perhaps she was wrong. He was, after all, the one who had tried to convince her to stay in Storybrooke. Maybe in his hundreds of years, Captain Hook had finally come to the conclusion that he wanted to have a home. She watched him sway with the child in his arms, singing in a hushed voice as Marian wandered away to stoke the fire and stir her cooking.  


_“...but don’t go fishing for a mermaid, son, if you don’t know how to swim…”_  


Emma beamed. She parted her lips to impart praise, but she was interrupted by a deep, rasping cough from Marian in the corner of the room. Emma rose from her seat and stepped toward the woman, who held up a hand to halt her.  


“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insisted. She struggled for gasping breaths between coughs. There was a crackling sound as she inhaled. Dread settled in Emma's belly. She had heard the same cough, the same noisy gasps before in a kid at a foster home when she was young. Pneumonia. Without modern medical intervention... Marian wouldn’t survive long.  


Emma excused herself as casually as possible and ducked out of the door. She stepped into the courtyard between the homes, drawing in a deep breath. Her senses were overwhelmed by the sharp sting of burning wood mixed with a floral scent akin to honeysuckle on a late summer day. She could see Robin assisting a neighbor with a project nearby, each of the men sweating in the midday sun as they hefted a large log atop a pile of stones. In the distance, she could hear the colony's children giggling and splashing along the creek bed.  


Killian emerged behind her, his arms free from the infant he had lulled to sleep moments before. “Alright, Swan?” His brow furrowed as he approached.  


She paused in thought before speaking. “Marian’s sick,” she admitted with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t notice how severe it was when we were in the dungeons. I thought it was just the damp air making her cough. But now... I know she’s got something she can’t possibly live through.”  


Without a word, Killian drew a deep breath. He shifted in his stance, his hand and prosthetic coming to rest on his hips.  


Emma ran a hand through her hair. A lump formed in her throat. Indignant, she swallowed it away, firmly set her jaw, and laid her head back to look up at the canopy of trees above them. “I thought we saved her, but we only gave her a little more time.”  


Her companion stepped forward closer to her. He lifted his false hand toward her shoulder, but pulled it back without allowing it to graze her. Licking his lips, he frowned, obviously in thought. “There will always be things we can’t change, love. We must deal with them and soldier along.”  


With an angry grunt, Emma nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Maybe this is the universe’s way of making right what I did wrong.”  


“Everything alright?” Robin approached, a bundle of wood in his arms.  


Killian nodded, gesturing to Emma. “Aye, she’s merely homesick. Been a long journey and we’re eager to be on our way. We just need to finish our quest.”  


“What sort of quest are you on, if I might ask?” Robin dropped the wood near the door. Marian emerged from the house, wiping her wet hands on the apron she'd tried around her waist.  


“We are on the hunt for a fairy, believe it or not. The Black Fairy. Have either of you heard of her?” Killian raised an eyebrow as he looked between the pair.  


Robin and Marian exchanged glances. Marian dropped her hold on the apron. “I’ve heard of her, but... she’s a dark fairy. What kind of dark magic are you after?” The young woman’s soulful brown eyes flicked from Killian to Emma and back again.  


“It’s complicated,” Emma offered, folding her hands in front of her. “But she’s the only way we can get home to our family.”  


“Do you know where they can find her?” Robin asked Marian, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t know you were in contact with the fairies.”  


“Well, I’m not,” Marian admitted, “and no I don’t. But I do know of a woman on the other side of the mountain who may be able to help you. She lived near a cousin of mine. They call her the Old Wench of Dunbroch. She sells wood carvings and doles out potions that... may or may not work.”  


“How long’s the journey to the other side of the mountain?” Killian asked, hooking his thumb into his belt. “Is it manageable on foot?”  


Robin sighed and considered, shifting his weight from one hip to the other. “Three days on foot? Perhaps two on horseback. There’s no sense in departing at this time of day. If you’re headed that way, I’d suggest you rest here for the night and leave in the morning. I’ll lend you a horse for your journey.”  


“I can pay you for your troubles,” Killian insisted. “Is there an inn where we might stay?”  


Marian shook her head. “No, but we have space for you in our loft, if you don’t mind sleeping up there.”  


With nowhere else to go, there would be little chance of them refusing the offer. Emma nodded. “Thank you, so much, for your kindness.”  


“We’re always happy to help out, er…” Robin frowned, “Sorry, I can’t seem to recall your names.”  


They hadn’t given names at all when they met. Emma knew she was better at this. “I’m Jane, and this is... John. Doe. Jane and John Doe.” Killian shot her a look and she smiled through the embarrassment.  


“Well then, we’re always happy to help out, Jane. I’ll grab some parchment and draw up a map for you.” Robin stepped inside, followed by his wife.  


“Any more fake names and I won’t be able to keep up with them, you know,” Killian muttered once their hosts were out of earshot.  


Emma sighed. “Well, we can’t be us and we can’t be Leia and Charles. So just stick with this, John. We’re just here for the night, and then we’re off to see this... Witch from Dun… ”  


“Old Wench of Dunbroch,” Killian corrected her. “They’re known for their sorcery there. I imagine this is a good path.”  


Nodding, Emma drew in a deep breath. Magic had gotten them stuck in the past. It only seemed right to trust it to get them home again. Perhaps if everything went to plan, they could end up back in Storybrooke in time for her brother’s coronation feast. Her stomach growled at the thought. Glancing over at Killian, she nudged him with her elbow. “Hey, how’d you get so good with babies? You were a natural with Roland. If I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you would be a great father someday.”  


Shaking his head, Killian gave a sad sort of chuckle. “I’ve always liked the wee sprouts. And I doubt I’m likely to ever get such a chance, Swan.” His gaze wandered to the horizon as he shifted his weight from one hip to the other.  


Before she could speak, Emma heard Marian erupt into another hacking, coughing spell. She closed her eyes in frustration, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “What are we going to do about Robin? He'll remember us in the future. Is that gonna screw everything up? What if he blames us for not helping her?”  


Killian scratched behind his ear. “The truth may be a little too hard to take, I fear, for either of them. I think we'll deal with any memories he has, later.”  


Robin poked his head out of the door and raised an eyebrow at the couple. “John, I’m off to the village. Would you like to come along to get supplies for your journey?”  


“Aye,” Killian answered with a smile, “sounds like a good idea. I’ll be back later, love.” Leaning in, he ghosted his lips against Emma’s cheek. She mirrored his expression, feeling a fluttering in her chest. Her feelings were a far cry from the moment he had tried to kiss her in New York. In fact, she felt a bit empty as he parted. He was her only companion in the midst of the time travel chaos, after all, and it was natural to feel lost without him. Or was it more than that?  


Stepping back into the cottage, Emma took a seat and watched the flames dance in the fireplace as Marian sat in a rocking chair and picked up some knitting.  


“Well you two are certainly more affectionate than the pair I mistook you for,” the dark-haired woman commented, adjusting her needles. “Prince Charles and Princess Leia. A lovely pair by the look of them, but the Princess was obviously not as keen on the match as the Prince.”  


Hoping the light was dim enough to hide the flush of embarrassment in her face, Emma cleared her throat. “That’s too bad,” she offered, “must have been a...pairing of convenience or circumstance.”  


“I think you’re right,” Marian smiled and knitted a few more stitches before pausing. “So tell me, how did you fall in love with John?”  


Emma drew in a deep breath and rubbed at the tops of her thighs with her palms. “Uh, well, I guess it was kind of gradual. I didn’t like him, at first. Came on a little strong, for me, I think.”  


“Don’t they all?” Marian smirked and stifled a cough into the crook of her arm. She signaled for Emma to continue speaking.  


“But the more time we spent together, outside of our normal lives, I guess you could say, the more I came to understand that we have a lot in common. We were both orphaned, and we’ve never really had a place to call home.” Emma lifted her water cup to take a sip, her head swimming with questions as to whether she was spinning a tale or telling the truth.  


Marian hummed in agreement, nodding. “So you became home for each other.”  


Emma bit down on her lower lip as she nodded in return. “I guess you could say that, yeah.”  



	3. Chapter 3

It was dark by the time Robin and Killian arrived back at the cottage. The men ducked inside the small house, laughing as if they had known one another for much longer than a day. Technically, that was true. Emma was just setting a place at the table for herself and her “husband” as they entered. Her eyebrow arched with curiosity in Killian’s general direction.  


“Robin is a good man, my love,” Killian boasted with a grin, “I’m glad to know him.” His gait was sloppy. She watched him stumble against a chair in the middle of the room.  


“You’re drunk,” Emma muttered in reply, forcing a smile. “You didn’t spill anything, did you?”  


“Would be a damned travesty if he did!” Robin replied, patting his new friend on the back. Killian laughed and gave Emma a wink. She nodded, taking the signal that all was safe with their secrets.   


Marian hefted a large pot onto the center of the table. Warmth emanated from the vessel, and the smell of whatever she had cooked caused Emma’s stomach to rumble. Robin tugged a broad and crusty loaf of bread from one of the burlap market sacks. They all settled around the table and Robin spooned up servings of a thick, inviting soup.  


“To new friends,” Robin led, raising his cup in a toast. “May you find your way home. And if you should not, know that you have a home here in Sherwood Forest.”  


“Hear hear,” Killian tapped his cup to Robin’s, Marian’s, and finally to Emma’s. His gaze lingered on Emma for a moment, and she met his eye. Emma could feel the color draining away from her face. She hadn't much considered what they would do if they failed to find the fairy, but there was yet a real possibility of a year or two together as John and Jane Doe. Emma willed the thought away and broke the intensity of their stare as she picked up a wooden spoon and began to eat.   


After the dinner, Emma assisted with tidying away the dishes. She scrubbed at a clay bowl in the washing tub, staring into the darkening forest beyond. Marian set about turning down the bed for herself and Robin. She had nursed Roland to sleep moments earlier, giving cause for everyone in the house to speak and move as quietly as possible. Robin climbed down the ladder from the loft.   


“I’ve tried to make it as cozy as possible. My apologies that we don’t have more room for you,” he patted Killian’s shoulder. “Sleep well. It’s a long journey to the other side of the mountain.”  


“Thanks, Mate,” Killian nodded and started up the ladder. Emma followed behind, carrying a dented lantern. The tops of the rafters were almost even, giving the area the illusion of diminutive living space. The ceiling was low, requiring both parties to duck as they made their way to a pile of blankets and straw in the center, as close to the fire as possible. Emma did her best to avoid thinking about what could be living up there with them.  


Killian shed his coat and balled it up beside the bed of straw, kicking off his boots.  


“You should sleep with me tonight,” she gestured to the bed, “We have to maintain the illusion, you know.”  


Even in the dim candlelight, there was a distinct flash of tensing muscle in Killian’s jaw as he considered her words. With a slow nod, he adjusted the blankets and laid back onto one of the two pillows. Emma placed the lantern beside her before joining him. His body warmth was somewhat new to her, but comforting where she laid. The pair stared at the ceiling for a long moment, remaining silent. Emma’s mind was swimming with thoughts of what Robin had offered. She drew a breath and turned, blowing out the candle in the lantern.  


In the silence of the night, Emma laid still as the dead. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing tears down her cheeks. As the thoughts she had bottled away came boiling to the surface, her breathing became choppy.   


With the gentlest of touches, Killian reached up and brushed at her cheek. He turned onto his side. In the close quarters laid out for them, Emma could feel the pirate's warm breath on her skin.  


“We'll get home, Emma,” he offered, his voice low and raspy. She could smell the rum on him in their close proximity. It was stronger than usual.  


“If we don’t...if we can’t find her--” she began to say, the whispers barely audible above the crackle of the fireplace.  


“Don’t think about that.”  


“I have to see Henry again,” her jaw trembled as she tried futilely to push her emotions back beneath the surface. “I just got him back.”  


“I know,” Killian whispered. “What can I do?”  


Emma turned to face him. Leaning forward, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and drew in deep, cleansing breaths. His bodily scent, warm and spiced, comforted her.   


As Killian carefully wrapped her in his arms, Emma relaxed. She placed a hand upon his chest, feeling the beating of his heart beneath her touch.   


“I will get you home, Emma, if it's the last thing I do.”  


\--  


Emma was alone when the sunlight began streaming through the gaps in the thatched roof above her. The smell of baking bread coaxed her to sit up and examine her surroundings. Killian and his things were gone, but the impression of his body still laid in the blanketed straw beside her. She touched the place he had been and allowed her fingers to linger on the rough blanket as she recalled the intimate moment from the night before.  


She navigated down the ladder with care, pausing at the bottom to run her fingers through her hair as she gazed about the empty cottage. Outside there was the sound of hushed voices and the stirring of horses, their hooves heavy upon the dirt lane. She stepped out into the morning light, raising a hand against the harsh contrast to let her eyes adjust.  


“Good morning, love,” Killian said with a smile as he tugged at the leather straps on the saddlebags. “Hope you slept well.”  


With Roland in one arm and a satchel of goods on the other, Marian gave Emma a cheerful smile. “Your husband says you should be on the road as soon as possible. I’m hoping you have good weather and roads. Just a few things here, for your journey.”  


“Thank you,” Emma smiled in return and leaned forward, pulling the other woman into a hug. The baby squirmed between them. The sinking feeling in Emma’s chest returned as she realized she would never see Marian alive again. Nor would the woman have much time left with her family. “Take care. Spend all the time with him that you can. They grow up fast.”  


“We will,” Robin said, approaching with a hand held out toward Killian. “Be safe, John. Watch out for the Queen on the roads. She tears through here on the hunt for Snow White, and many a man has been run off the path by her carriage.”  


“Of course,” Killian shook his hand and nodded with lifted eyebrows. “That woman’s temper knows few bounds.”  


Emma rolled her eyes and moved along to the side of their ride, a deep brown steed with a soft black mane. She rubbed the horse’s nose with a smile. The powerful creature huffed and nodded his head in contentment.   


“Well, my dear, shall we?” Killian climbed onto the horse’s back and held a hand down to her. Emma slid her hand into his grasp, accepting the assistance in climbing onto the back of the strong beast. Her dress rode up slightly around her ankles as she adjusted up behind Killian, her chest pressing against the back of his leather jacket. The morning sunlight revealed red and brown highlights in his mop of dark hair. She wrapped her arms around his waist as the horse pulled away from the camp. Emma waved as they departed.  


Once they were on the road, she felt a coil of unconscious tension unraveling. Being around Robin was like walking on eggshells; the last thing she wanted to do was set off some kind of chain reaction that would kill something important in the future.   


“Sorry it’s not the most comfortable mode of transportation, Swan,” Killian spoke from in front of her. She felt his words reverberating in his chest and smiled to herself. It really wasn’t so bad being close to him.   


“I doubt we have many other options,” she paused, licking her lips as she considered her words, “Thank you, for all of this. If you hadn’t have come with me, I’d probably be...trapped in a closet at Gold’s castle.”  


She felt, more than heard, his chuckle. “Yes, well, I promised myself that I’d stop chasing you someday. Alas, I have yet to learn my lesson.”  


Emma resisted the urge to shoot back with her usual snark. It didn’t feel right, this time. They rode in silence for a while. Emma leaned her temple against his back, watching the scenery as the horse trotted along the winding, uneven road beneath his hooves.   


The hours passed in idle conversation, with Killian offering up tales of the sea to keep her awake. Emma swore she’d fall straight off the back of the horse if she allowed the rhythmic trot to lull her into a nap. She learned more about Neverland, including a brief affair with Tinkerbell.   


“When you’re the only two attractive, consenting adults on the Isle, sometimes things happen,” he shrugged as he breezed through an abbreviated version of the hundreds of years he spent trapped with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys.   


Emma felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy in her belly. “I thought so,” she admitted, from previous suspicion. “Were you serious?”  


He chuckled and shook his head. “The green fairy and I were not well-suited outside of the bedroom, love. We enjoyed ourselves and took leave of one another.”  


As the sun rose high in the sky, the pair came upon a town near the sea. The bustling port moved around them as their ride walked toward a fountain in the center of town where several other horses were tied up and taking refreshment.  


“Fancy a pint?” Killian asked, turning to help Emma climb down off of the horse.  


Emma took his hand and climbed down, fighting to hide a blush in her cheeks as his hand found the tuck of her waist, just above her hip. She cleared her throat and glanced around town. “Yeah, I suppose. Are you known here?”  


Frowning, Killian shook his head. “I’m unfamiliar with this particular port of call. Not one of my usual haunts, so I’m unlikely to run into myself.”  


“Again,” Emma teased, pulling away from his grasp and moving in the direction of what appeared to be a pub. The stinking, unconscious drunk outside of the doorway told her she was in the right place. It may have been only noon, but the bar was full of loud patrons, clinking tankards and shouting about various debts owed on gambling losses. A table in the back was playing a game of dice. Cards were the game of the hour at another spot near the door. Emma strode inside and made her way to a table near a window. The parcel of bread and fruit she had pulled from their saddlebags was perfect for an early lunch.  


Killian was nearly to the table when a roaring voice silenced the rest of the patrons in the bar.   


“Captain Hook!” A large man with black curls tumbling from beneath a tricorn hat stood. He wore a red coat with gold buttons. Emma frowned. He was most certainly more like the cartoon version of Captain Hook she’d known as a child. As she glanced back to her companion, she noticed his face had lost some of its color, and his hand was lingering on the hilt of his sword.   


“How dare you set foot here! Had I known the Jolly Roger was at port, I’d have boarded her in a heartbeat!” The man pushed away from the table and narrowed his gaze at the pair of them. “Pretty wench. But I miss the tasty Milah.”  


Killian’s sword was out of its scabbard in an instant, pointed unwaveringly in the direction of the other pirate. “Blackbeard, I come with no mind to harm you or your crew.” A muscle in his face flexed as he clenched his jaw.   


Emma’s heart sank to her stomach. Of all the public houses in the past, they had to walk into one with Blackbeard at a card table. Her eyes scanned the room. One pirate had a dagger in his boot, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to grab it before Blackbeard could strike.   


“I believe when last we met,” Blackbeard boomed, moving around the card table and sauntering in their general direction, “you made off with my first mate and the map he held.”  


Eyebrows raised in surprise, Emma’s gaze shifted back to Killian. Such an accusation was both ambiguous and interesting.   


The one-handed pirate shifted on his feet. He avoided Emma’s gaze as he cleared his throat. “Let it be known that he sought me out specifically that night, and...I knew nothing of the map until much later in the evening.”  


Her jaw dropped slightly as a warm blush ran up into her cheeks. That was...a visual. A side of Killian Jones she had never considered. Of course it made sense, when she thought about it. A man who had lived hundreds of years without aging had to have little fear of trying new things.   


“Nevertheless!” His hands on his hips, Blackbeard glowered at Killian. “I want my map.”  


“By all means, you are very welcome to it,” Killian replied. Emma watched his grip tighten on the hilt of the sword, the weapon unwavering in its aim at Blackbeard’s neck. “I left it on the island. If you're lucky, it'll still be pinned to your rotting first mate’s chest. Such is the price for attempting to cross me.”  


“Look,” Emma raised her hands in surrender and carefully stood from her seat, “it’s clear there’s some bad blood here. However, Captain Jones is my escort, and I would very much appreciate being back on the road.”  


The older man, his dirty face framed in black curls, smiled slowly. “She’s a demanding one. Wherever did you find such a lass?”  


Before Killian could open his mouth to defend her, Emma piped up once more. “I am Leia, the Princess of...Narnia. You will return to your game and allow Captain Jones and I to be on our way.”  


The skin around Blackbeard’s eyes crinkled as a deep belly laugh erupted from him. His crew matched him in his amusement, shoving one another in jest and nodding in some kind of agreement. “Your highness, I apologize for impeding your journey, but I am afraid I must have my revenge upon your so-called ‘escort’. Perhaps we can come to some other kind of arrangement for your travels?”  


“I will have it no other way,” Emma glared. “Now, allow us to pass in peace.”  


“You’ll have your chance, Teach. But today is not your day,” his sword twitching in the opposite direction of the door, Killian gestured with his false hand for Emma to move behind him to the exit. She followed his lead, pulling her hood up over her hair.   


The other pirate stepped aside, nodding with understanding. “Only because I have the highest respect for Princess Leia. When we meet again, Jones, it’ll be your head.”  


With a sarcastic bow, Killian shoved his sword back into its scabbard and followed Emma from the tavern. He jogged to their steed and climbed quickly onto his back. Once Emma was securely mounted behind him, Killian dug his heels firmly into the beast’s side and shook the reins. The horse took off at a strong gallop, into the encroaching darkness of the woods.   


Emma held tight to him, her cheek pressing to his strong shoulder as they moved deeper and deeper into the forest. Neither of them spoke in the fever of the escape.   



	4. Chapter 4

As the horse came to a slower trot sometime later, Emma sat up and looked around. It was unlikely they were being followed, but she noticed that Killian was listening and glancing back from where they had come. She could sense his tension in his breathing.  


“Are you okay?” She asked finally, placing a hand on his back.   


“Me? I’m fine, Swan. What about you? I’m sorry to put you in that situation,” he glanced vaguely over his shoulder at her.  


A smirk spread across her features. “It was more of an educational experience than anything. I’m fine.”   


She watched a pale pink go from his cheeks into his neck. “Ah, yes. I believe you’re already aware that I have a colorful past.”  


“No judgment from me. I was just surprised to hear it. I also thought for a minute there that you might actually kill Blackbeard.”  


He hesitated before speaking again. “I have need of him in the future, so that would hardly be of benefit to anyone.”  


Emma laughed slightly. “What, do you steal some treasure from him or something?”  


Shaking his head, Killian cleared his throat. “No, I um, I need to make a deal with him for a magic bean. I need to be able to find you in New York.”  


Her brow furrowed as she considered what Blackbeard would consider as a trade for a magic bean. It had to be something of significant value, given the relationship between the two men. “What did you offer him?”  


As she awaited the answer, she noticed that they were approaching a village ahead.   


“Why, the Jolly Roger, of course.” He did not turn to look at her.  


Seated behind him, Emma found herself unable to muster the words to express her simultaneous confusion and gratitude. Without his trip to New York, Emma never would have realized how much she truly loved her family. She might have been married to a flying monkey. But why would he give his ship, the source of his happiness and livelihood, to save her?  


Killian’s posture changed as he leaned slightly to the left, eyeing something in the dim light. He clicked his tongue a couple of times and tugged the reins to lead the horse not toward the village, but in the direction of a structure in the shadows.  


Through the thick brush on the side of the road, the horse carried them up to a most and ivy-covered cottage. The thatched roof had some charred scars, but the stone structure seemed sound.  


“Stay here,” Killian muttered as he dismounted the horse. Emma wasn't sure if he was talking to her or their ride, but she complied nonetheless. She watched as the pirate brandished his sword and cut through the thick coating of ivy. He pushed the greenery aside to reveal a wooden door. With a soft click, the door swung open on sketchy, creaking hinges. Killian disappeared inside as Emma waited with bated breath.   


There was a brief silence before the pirate emerged. He flashed a smile of pride and gestured to the cottage.   


“Your accommodations for the evening, Milady.”  


Emma wrinkled her nose. “What's in there?”  


Killian shrugged and approached the horse, loosening the saddlebag straps. “Few cobwebs, a crumbling fireplace with a fairly clear flue, and most importantly, a bed with a roof over it.”  


With a sigh of contentment, Emma smiled and slid down off of the horse with the pirate's assistance. She lifted her skirts and trudged through the low brush before ducking into the small house. It had clearly been abandoned sometime before their arrival. She imagined the fire which destroyed half of the roof to have been the catalyst for such upheaval. A broom laid on the floor beneath an ivy-choked window. She bent and picked it up, lifting the implement to brush away a few of the larger cobwebs and scoot piles of burnt straw toward the fireplace.   


“I'll start a fire, and then I'm afraid I'll have to go into the village in search of sustenance. Whatever Marian made for us got left behind when Blackbeard confronted us.” Killian scratched behind his ear.   


Emma paused and bit down on her lower lip. She watched as Killian knelt upon the hearth and brushed a few leaves and debris aside. He dug into his rucksack and carefully switched his prosthetic hand for his hook.   


Sparks flew as he struck his hook against a spot in the hearth. A couple of them ignited the leaves and a familiar scent, one reminiscent of autumn bonfires, filled the empty space. Killian nudged the smoking leaves toward a pile of smaller sticks. He leaned down further and blew gently. A shiver ran down Emma's spine. She swallowed hard, closing her eyes. Her mind swirled with visions of those perfect lips blowing warm air against her neck, teasing her as his hand roamed along the tender skin inside her thigh.  


Killian stood and brushed his hand on the side of his leather trousers. “I'll be back in a few. Hopefully with some firewood as well.”  


His words startled Emma from her lustful reverie and her eyes snapped open. With a curt nod, she acknowledged his statement.   


“Yeah, sure. Be careful.”  


As if the situation wasn't ready complicated, she was finding herself fantasizing about the man who had sold his most prized possession for her. Was it possible that she was finally admitting he could actually be in love with her? Was she falling in love with him, too? Emma shook her head and returned to tidying up the cottage. In a back corner near the bed, which was still little more than a straw mattress, she found a box with a few candles inside. There was also a rolled-up piece of leather, tied with a ribbon.   


After lighting the candles and situating them in a few areas in need of light, Emma untied the leather roll. She found a small bottle of ink, a feather quill, and a few curled, yellowed pieces of parchment. She tapped at the glass bottle with thought.  


Taking a seat upon the bed, Emma opened the bottle of ink and dipped the nib into the black, viscous liquid within. She touched the quill to the parchment and drew in a deep breath.  


_Dear Henry,_  


_If you find this letter, it's possible you are living in Storybrooke with your Mom, Regina. You may not know that I am your biological mother. My name is Emma Swan._  


_In another life, we were together. Magic allowed me to have memories of raising you. I was so happy, kid. I really was. But magic reared its head once more and I ended up in the Enchanted Forest of the past. It's a long story, but there's a chance I won't make it back to the future. I wanted you to know how to find me, if I end up cursed in Storybrooke as well._  


Emma went on to describe herself and Killian. She indicated that he should get the two of them together with Mary-Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan. She explained that Mr. Gold was really to blame and that he may know more than he revealed to them. Most importantly of all, she explained that a kiss of true love could break the in Storybrooke and allow them to find each other again.  


A gentle rain began to fall. The open part of the roof, a small spot near the fireplace, allowed the rain to trickle down onto the bare dirt floor. She looked to the door, hoping Killian would return shortly.  


Glancing back down at her letter, Emma signed off with a message of hope and love. She watched the ink soak into the parchment before folding the letter into something she could easily hide for safe keeping. Should their mission fail, she would tuck the letter into an object she knew would survive the trip to Storybrooke.  


The rain began to fall more heavily as Emma placed the letter in the pocket of her skirt. With a sputter and a laugh, Killian made his way in through the rickety door and into the shelter of the cottage.  


“That was an ill-timed excursion,” he chuckled, placing his rucksack and a bundle of firewood on the floor. The heaviness of the bag indicated the trip had at least been successful.  


“You're soaked!” Emma laughed, moving to help him. “You'd better get out of this before some kind of plague infects you.” She reached up and pushed at the sodden lapels of his jacket. The coat came away, leaving him in his black shirt and suspenders. He slid the suspenders from his shoulders and tugged the shirt from his body. She examined the elaborate leather straps which wound over his shoulders to secure the brace on his left arm. It was the first time she’d seen it, and she found herself sympathetic to the pain he must have endured when he lost his hand.  


Emma watched as he situated his shirt near the fire. His muscular back was scarred from ...really any number of pirate escapades. More pain. Had he ever truly known anything but anguish? The glow from the fire, onto which he tossed a few extra logs, illuminated his face in a way she had never seen. As he stood, he made a move in the direction of his bag. Emma stepped in his way.  


With a tilt of his head and a raise of his eyebrow, Killian frowned. “Swan?”  


“Did you really trade your ship for me?”   


She watched his gaze soften. He gave the slightest of nods. “Aye.”  


For a moment, Emma searched his deep blue eyes. His gaze was steady, unwavering. With a breath, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. Killian hesitated for only a moment before he leaned into the kiss, sliding an arm around her back. Emma slid her hands up over his shoulders, her fingers finding the nape of his neck, wandering up into his hair. Her heart was pounding in her chest.   


The rain continued to pour outside as Killian bent at the knees and swept her up into his arms. The bed at the back of the cottage was definitely lacking, but it would do for now. His eyes were focused on her, pupils blown wide and dark with need. Killian knelt onto the straw mattress as a low rumble of thunder clapped miles away.   


“Do I presume too much?” He whispered, reaching up to brush her hair back from her eyes.  


There had always been a twinge of nervous energy when she had been with Neal or Walsh or any of the other flings along the way, but with Killian, all she felt was desire. It felt right. She shook her head and drew his hand down to the front of her bodice, where she gave the laces a good tug to loosen them. She met his gaze in the dim candlelight. “Not at all.”  


For too long, Emma had avoided Killian’s advances, considering them an invitation to a fling of some kind. His very nature seemed inclined toward one-night-stands and throwaway romances. Any of which could seriously complicate her life in Storybrooke. But when had life in Storybrooke ever been uncomplicated?  


In that moment, seeing his true colors, she wondered why she had waited so long to truly get to know him. As ridiculous as it was that she was bedding Captain Hook, he was so much more than a figment in a story. He was made of flesh and blood. And so was she.  


Emma’s back arched up off of the bed as he tugged her dress away from her shoulders. Her breasts bared to him, he sighed low with contentment and buried his face between them, inhaling her scent. She blushed like a schoolgirl as he suckled at her skin, but the warmth that pooled in her belly was unmistakably wanton. He kissed along her body; the scratch of his beard against her taut stomach sending shivers down her spine.   


Killian took his time with her, caressing her skin with tender touches and longing kisses. By the time he made his way back up to her lips, she was aching with need. Emma wasted little time in wrapping herself around him. She slid her legs around his backside and pushed down his trousers before pulling him deep inside of her with a low moan of satisfaction. Killian grunted and whispered into her ear as he rocked his hips, slow and deep against her body.  


“You’re beautiful, Emma,” he hummed, nipping at her earlobe. “Bloody gorgeous…”  


They moved together, their bodies entwined, as the storm passed over their tiny overnight dwelling. Time passed slowly as they made love, exploring one another for the very first time. Before long they were both completely spent, coming down from an extraordinary high reached in each other’s arms.  


The steady crackle of the fireplace accompanied their slow breathing as their bodies settled into the bed. A soft, warm breeze swept through the cottage, filling the room with a scent of fresh rain. Emma’s face was buried in Killian’s neck, one arm draped lazily over his chest. Her body was entirely sated, and her breathing was slow.   


Killian pressed his lips to the top of her head, his hand on her back. “Hungry, love?” He whispered. Emma wasn’t sure whether he was being bashful in their post-coital moment or polite in case she had fallen asleep.   


“Mmm, yes,” she muttered against him, kissing a tender bit of skin between his neck and shoulder.  


With obvious reluctance, he pulled away from her and tugged on his trousers before moving to his rucksack near the door. Emma admired the sight of him, his pants hanging loosely around his hips, a tuft of dark hair peeking from the open buttons of the fly. His body was strong, despite the scars he wore. And even though he was physically handicapped, his performance had most certainly not suffered in the least.  


Emma laid on her side, her long blonde hair falling over her bare shoulders. A thin blanket laid loosely upon her hips. As Killian turned back to her with their meager dinner, he paused and cocked his head to the side, admiring her in the dim light.  


“Keep looking at me like that, Swan, and you won’t have time to eat,” he muttered with a wicked smirk.   


She bit down on her lower lip and patted the bed, beckoning him back to her. He obliged, placing the bread, cheese, and apples on the thin bed sheet beneath them.   


Emma plucked a bit of bread from the loaf and popped it into her mouth. “This place isn't all that bad,” she mused, glancing around the cottage.  


“I imagine someone could restore it with ease,” Killian replied before biting into an apple. He surveyed the missing area in the roof as he chewed thoughtfully. “Wouldn't take much effort.”  


Thunder rumbled in the distance. The storm was moving further away.   


“If we can't find the Black Fairy, maybe...maybe we could come back here,” she pulled a crumble from the block of cheese, avoiding his eye.   


Killian's gaze narrowed. “As in...you'd want to live here, together?”  


She shrugged, licking her lips. “There's a possibility we're stuck. I guess I thought we would just make the most of it.”  


“I could live with that,” Killian replied, his tone soft. He leaned in and placed a tender kiss against her lips. “But first, we'll work on getting you home.”  


“Us. Getting us home,” Emma smiled.  



End file.
